


A Compendium of Orlesian Theatre

by hongmunmu



Category: DAIMP - Fandom, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: DAIMP, Developing Relationship, Established Relationship, Fluff, Inquisition Agents (Dragon Age), Inquisition Multiplayer, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-01
Updated: 2015-11-01
Packaged: 2018-04-29 07:22:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5119931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hongmunmu/pseuds/hongmunmu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Our agents deserve some kind of reward for their efforts - tickets to the theatre, perhaps? <br/>     — Josephine Montilyet</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Compendium of Orlesian Theatre

_“Theatre tickets!”_

Thornton gave an exasperated little sigh. “Yes, Rion. Theatre tickets.”

Rion only scoffed. “They could have just _paid us_ …”

Thornton rolled his eyes, smiling at Cillian. After a week or so of traveling together, they’d all grown rather used to Rion’s whining. Though admittedly, actual payment would have been nice – that Ambassador, bless her, she somehow thought that the little ragtag band of agents would benefit from a night in the Val Royeaux theatre on the way back to Skyhold.

It was the four of them – Rion, Thornton, Cillian and Hall. The latter three were mostly pleased about Lady Josephine’s ad-hoc reward - somehow negotiating their way onto the bi-annual showing of _Death in the Mansion_ , which just so happened to coincide with their journey back. Rion, however, who wasn’t a massive fan of the arts nor Orlais, was more than a little peeved.

It’s a good thing Tamar wasn’t on this mission, Thornton thought weakly. She would have bludgeoned Rion by now.

By the time they got to central Val Royeaux, they were all exhausted - Hall still had a slight limp from a mishap with bandits on the road, and Cillian had come down with something after getting trapped in a room with a despair demon. None of them complained when Thornton suggested they all turn in early.

Luckily, Josephine had thought ahead and bought them two nights at the inn nearest to the theatre – and frankly, if this was what she threw in with theatre tickets, Thornton would quite gladly go to Orlais for every bloody job the Inquisition gave him. The place was unbelievably high-end, as far as inns go. They split two rooms between the four of them – Cillian and Thornton more or less automatically gravitated towards the same door, leaving Rion and Hall giving each other an awkward look in the hallway, before Rion shoved his way into the other room and dived for the bigger bed. Hall just sighed and followed him in, closing the door behind him.

***

“You know, if you’d really rather be paid, I’m sure Lady Montilyet would understand. You could just tell her that-”

“Y’know what, Hall, I don’t think I asked,” Rion said grudgingly. Hall pressed on.

“What? There’s no reason not to. It’s not like the Inquisition’s coffers are beyond one agent’s salary.” Hall paused, noticing that Rion’s face was scarlet. “Er, are you all right?”

“Eh? I’m fine. It’s the light, innit,” Rion said, turning away. Hall said nothing, just watched the mage’s back as he busied himself with undoing pauldrons and pulling a tatty night-shirt out his rather overstuffed pack.

“They don’t really show you things like art in the Circle, do they?” he asked after a while, genuinely curious. Rion scoffed.

“Do they show it to you in the bloody forest?”

“Actually, yes,” Hall began. “The Dalish did these sorts of interpretive plays, acting out their tales and history. It was quite fascina—”

“Alright, I didn’t ask for your life story,” Rion remarked, unbuttoning what must have been his third coat now.

“Are you nervous?” Hall asked. Maker, he really didn’t know when to stop.

“What? Nah,” Rion said evasively, glancing over at him.

“You don’t need to be embarrassed,” Hall pressed. “I’m a bit nervous, myself. It’s not like any of us are used to this…”

“Oh, shut it, you,” Rion grumbled, prodding his pillow several times before turning over and slamming his head down onto it with unnecessary force. “You’re always nervous. Good bloody night.”

“Good night,” Hall said pensively, but he stayed awake for a fair while after Rion had fallen asleep, snoring noisily. It was hardly surprising he was nervous – for someone like him, or Cillian, or Thornton, people who’d been wandering their whole lives, it was hard to imagine what it was like for Rion, who’d more or less only started seeing the world a few months ago. To spend one’s entire life in a glorified prison surrounded by the same things, same stories, same people – the idea of it was more than Hall could bear. Perhaps Rion did have more reason to complain than the rest of them.

***

“Shall we get that fire going?” Thornton said cheerfully as he came away from the door, rubbing his hands together.

“I’ll get that,” Cillian began, but Thornton frowned at him.

“Oi, I don’t want you wasting your energy. I know plenty of ways to start up a good—” he stopped, because Cillian had already lit the logs in the fireplace with a subtle hand motion. Cillian chuckled at the hunter’s expression.

“I think I can manage one small flame, thank you,” he said lightly. Thornton grumbled, nudging him toward the bed closer to the fire before settling himself down, kicking their packs under his bed. Cillian glanced around the room as he removed his armour.

“Even Rion couldn’t complain about this,” he said, one hand blindly fiddling with a buckle. Thornton strutted over, eyes set on the buckle.

“Allow me,” he said, eyes glinting. Cillian scoffed as he turned around, arms dropping to his sides as he let Thornton help him out of the sentinel armour.

“Next you’ll be feeding me breakfast and carrying my pack for me.” Thornton chuckled.

“Don’t get your hopes up.” He paused. “Unless you’re dyin’. Or you got a broken arm, or—“

“Alright, alright.”

***

“ _The body is not yet cold. Someone in this mansion killed Lord Carcasse!_ ” trilled the masked woman centre-stage. Rion groaned.

“Maker. Lord _Carcass?_ I mean, _really?”_ This earned him a few angry hisses from nobles in surrounding seats, and he grudgingly shut his mouth. Still, Hall couldn’t suppress a small laugh.

***

“You know, I feel like Sidony would have enjoyed this,” Cillian murmured to Thornton. He had to agree. The necromancer certainly did seem to have a penchant for these sorts of predictable thrillers – more than once she had been seen chatting rather intently to one Varric Tethras.

“I found her in a corner of the grounds a few weeks ago,” Thornton whispered back. “She was reading Seeker Pentaghast’s copy of _Hard in Hightown_. Looked like she hadn’t slept.” Cillian chuckled.

“ _Shh!”_ hissed a masked woman in the row behind them, tapping Thornton on the head with her fan.

***

When they returned to Skyhold and passed by the gates into the main courtyard, Hall gave them a brief nod before heading toward the stables. Josephine was waiting on the stairway platform leading up to the main entrance.

“Welcome back!” Josephine exclaimed excitedly. “How was it— I do hope everyone enjoyed themselves?”  
“It was brilliant,” Rion said almost immediately. There was a pause before he noticed the others were staring at him. Feeling his ears get hot, he shrugged furiously before shoving his hands in his pockets and walking away in the direction of the stables. They all watched him go. Thornton looked like a proud father.

“I didn’t realise it was quite so… moving,” Josephine said, looking rather startled. “I always thought _Death in the Mansion_ was a little…too much. I wanted to book tickets for _The Heir of Verchiel_ , but of course that’s only once a year and wouldn’t fit with your journey. But yes, I suppose Armand’s plays _do_ tend to have that effect on people—“  
“It was lovely, Ambassador,” Cillian said rather suddenly, bowing a little. “You have our deepest, most sincere gratitude. Ma serannas.”

Josephine gave an embarrassed cough. “I wouldn’t go that far – you are the ones risking your lives, after all, I— yes. Gentlemen.” She hurried away in the direction of the Inquisitor’s quarters as though she had been summoned. Which, in retrospect, she might have been, Thornton thought. Working under Leliana, you learn to notice these things, after all.  

Either way, he let Josephine and her potential girlfriend leave his thoughts for now; at that moment, there was someone more important to think about. He turned to Cillian and swept him into a hug.

Cillian looked a little embarrassed, almost, which wasn’t common. As Thornton broke away he looked up at him questioningly.   
“What brought that on?”

Thornton just smiled. “Just think it’s some kind of miracle that we keep making it back here together.”

Cillian gave a soft laugh at that. “Don’t say that. You’re Thornton. You always make it through.”

“Small victories,” Thornton said, and they embraced again in the soft afternoon sunlight.


End file.
